


Front Row Seat

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Autofellatio, Dark, Demonic Possession, Forced Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, M/M, No Lube, Non-Consensual, Other, Possession, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 11:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10853538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Azazel gives John a front row seat to a little 'self-love' while possessing his body.





	Front Row Seat

“You know, you are a _stallion_ of a man, John Winchester.”

Azazel’s voice came from his lips – but that voice – the cold, snake tongue voice – that was the same in his head.

 _“So what are you gonna do? Hold me hostage? Make my boys kill me?”_ John asked. He saw nothing but darkness, his own head a prison. His voice, blended with Azazel’s, echoing from unseen corners all around him.

“Eventually. But first… I think we should have a little fun. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in such a _nice_ meatsuit.”

Dread rose to the forefront of John’s mind. _“What the hell do you mean by that?”_

A bright light filled the black space. He blinked a few times, surprised to see a nice apartment bedroom. He was sitting on a large bed, staring at himself in the mirror.

“Such a nice view.” John started – it was his mouth speaking, but not his words. He tried to move his arms or legs, or even turn his head, and had to stifle panic when he realized he couldn’t.

“Oh calm down. I’m giving you a front row seat – not control. Just relax, John. You’ll like this.”

Azazel moved his arm up, running his fingers lightly down his chin and chest. John could feel everything – his own hands, his face, the quickening of his breath – but it all felt so alien.

_“You—Stop—“_

“Why would I stop? Azazel asked with John’s mouth. He slid his hand down, cupping his groin and giving a squeeze. John groaned at the same time Azazel did – an eerie mirror of himself.

“Just relax, Johnny – I’ll make sure you feel good before I rip your throat out.”

 _“My boys are going to kill you_ ,” John snarled. His reflection grinned.

“Your boys aren’t even going to know I’m in you until it’s too late.”

John felt his body laying back onto the bed, hands going to the front of his jeans. He attempted to struggle – break free of Azazel’s control, but to no avail. The zipper sounded in the quiet room, more frightening than any gunfire John had ever heard. He screamed in his head, and his own voice echoed back with laughter.

Azazel slid his hand down the front of John’s jeans, stroking his cock to hardness. John wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run, his body betraying him every step of the way. He knew he should be disgusted – he _was_ disgusted – but he wasn’t in control right now. His cock responded as it should have – hard and ready for some self-care.

 _“Please – why are you doing this?_ ”

“Well sometimes, John – a demon just needs some love. And I don’t have time to go out and find a nice girl or boy, so a little self-love is gonna have to suffice.”

Azazel wiggled out of John’s jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He used John’s head to look down and John could see his own hand curled lightly around his cock, his thumb rubbing the tip and smearing precome over the silky skin.

“Bet you made the boys and girls all sorts of happy with this thing.”

John wanted to look away, close his eyes, do anything, but Azazel kept him staring, watching and feeling every stroke of his familiar hand on his cock. He should have felt normal – natural – it wasn’t like he didn’t jerk off, but this just felt alien and _wrong_.

Azazel groaned, standing with John’s body and facing the mirror. He continued to stroke John’s cock at an even pace, sliding John’s other hand around to grasp his ass.

_“Stop—“_

“Not even close to being done. Shut up and enjoy it,” Azazel snarled into the mirror. He slid the rough, trigger callused pad of his forefinger against John’s hole, and John’s body gave an involuntary shudder.

“I can see into your brain, John. I know you’ve done this to yourself. You sick fuck – bet your loving sons never even knew their Daddy liked fucking boys at truck stops.”

_“Shut up. Shut up!”_

John screamed when Azazel shoved his first finger in dry. His mouth remained shut, a grin much too evil to be John’s gracing his lips.

Azazel stretched him roughly, his cock still hard, dribbling precome onto his hand. Two fingers, then three, John’s screams echoed in his brain, mingling with Azazel’s laughter, his own mouth forming a grin, voice moaning and mentioning how great it felt.

“Hey, John,” Azazel slowed the thrusts of his fingers, forcing John to meet his own gaze in the mirror. He angled his fingers to hit John’s prostate, groaning. “You ever got off thinking about your sons? Dean’s a pretty one isn’t he?”

 _“You sick fuck!”_ John roared. His cock jumped, a blurt of precome slicking the strokes.

Azazel laughed through his mouth. “Ohh, liked that did ya?”

 _“No! You don’t talk about my fucking sons_!”

“So touchy, Johnny boy. I think I struck a nerve. Let’s strike another one, huh?” He shoved his fingers deeper, rubbing quickly at John’s prostate. He moaned, regardless of the screaming in his mind.

“Ohh… I have a better idea.”

John felt the fingers leave his ass and his body sat on the bed. A bit of wiggling, and he was sitting all the way on the mattress, his legs flat out in front of him.

“This might hurt a bit.”

John began to struggle to break free again as Azazel bent his body down, angling his cock upward.  He felt a crunch, the agony ripping through his body and mind as his rib cracked. He slumped forward, his body laughing – Azazel laughing in his mind.

“That’s gonna leave a mark.”

If he’d had any control over his body, John would have cried. He wanted to disappear – the echoing blackness of his subconscious was better than this. _Anything_ was better than this. But he was forced to watch, to feel, as his body bent farther, the fractured rib pressing against his muscle.

His cock tip was smooth against his tongue, warm and salty. It was a bizarre feeling – the sensation of the silken skin in his mouth and the twin feeling of a hot mouth sucking at his tip. It was almost enough to make him forget the pain in his ribs – until Azazel shifted his body to suck his cock deeper.

Pain, pleasure, fury – it all boiled together in John’s guts, a whirlwind of emotions that burned like an ice-cold knife being stabbed everywhere. He felt his balls tightening – not like this – he couldn’t do this. He did all he could to push the pleasure away from the forefront of his mind. Go limp, bite himself – _anything_. But Azazel held strong to his physical body, his cock dribbling freely into his mouth as he bobbed his head along the shaft, giving little sucks and swirls of his tongue at the tip.

He could hear himself moaning, drawing in ragged gasps around his cock as Azazel contorted his body to suck himself off. His head moved quickly up and down the shaft, applying just the right pressure as his hand kneaded his balls. They were tight against his groin now, sending sharp little shocks of pleasure to his stomach. He was going to come. He was going to orgasm and Azazel wasn’t showing any signs of stopping—

The bitter taste of his own come filled John’s mouth. He fought once more against the mental binds Azazel had him in, desperately wanting to spit it out, to stop milking the aftershocks from his twitching, softening cock.

It wasn’t until after Azazel sat John upright, ignoring the burning pain in his ribcage, and made sure he tasted his own come in every inch of his mouth, that he let John go – slipping him back into the darkness of his subconscious.

“You know, John – I wonder what your boys would say if they’d seen that.”

 _“Go to Hell._ ”

“Been there, done that. Prefer Earth – it’s so much more… Frightening. And unpredictable, wouldn’t you say?”

 _“Just kill me already_ ,” John pleaded. Despite having lost his ‘front row seat’ – he could still taste his own come, feel the burn of his ass and his aching ribs.

“No, no, no. I’m just starting to have fun. Now you quiet down. I hear my kiddos coming. That means yours are on their way too. This is going to be a _fun_ evening.”


End file.
